


and to you a happy chrimbo

by fingersfallingupwards



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, good times train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingersfallingupwards/pseuds/fingersfallingupwards
Summary: Paul hadn't anticipated that someone cool like John would go in for Christmas the way the soppy old folks did. And yet, he comes bearing a gift.
Relationships: John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, preslash - Relationship, such a thin line
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	and to you a happy chrimbo

**Author's Note:**

> all that is good, merry, and bright to my dear beta [johnjie](https://johnjie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> this is a fill someone requested as my fic giveaway in September! thank you for the prompt but sorry it's late lovie!

+

"Here, Macca.”

Paul looks up from rubbing his chapped hands to see John’s mitten extended, proffering something smothered by the thick knit. The mittens are of quality; warm, expensive. Mimi’s purchase, as though John weren’t going to lose, burn, or stain them into crackled wool with paint by Boxing Day.

John jiggles his hand, and Paul takes what’s being offered.

It’s a chocolate bar, he realizes. He feels stupid somehow, slow with the cold and snow. They’ve been friends near six months now. In that time, Paul’s realized he’s never had a friend as good as John. Not that George or Ivan aren’t great lads, but they don’t keep up and challenge him the way John does, or smoke and drink the easy way John does. They just aren’t cool like John, really. John makes Paul an adult by proximity - when they’d met he’d offered Paul a beer like it were nothing, like he didn’t think it was a joke or Paul was just a kid.

And so, Paul had anticipated that someone cool like John wouldn’t go in for Christmas the way the soppy old folks did, like Paul’s aunties and uncles all gathering round the piano. Even between friends they keep the holidays cool. Last year, George’s parents had made a bit of plum pudding and had George bring it around to Paul’s, but it had only tasted of loss, of sweetness taken and… well, that’s the only gift from a mate he’s ever had. Until now. Now, John is certainly offering this chocolate like a Christmas present, all giddy pleasure at giving, and Paul can’t make sense of it.

It’s worse when John says, “Happy Chrimble, Macca.” He looks gleeful to be handing it over, like seeming eager doesn’t matter today, despite him spitting on someone off the bus for it last week. For all his coolness and hard edge there is a softness to John, the glimmers of which Paul has glanced at between lyric lines. Sentimentality, gentle-soul, “Hello Little Girl.” The kind of thing that music feeds and the brick and mortar world of Liverpool crushes like brick slather.

He didn’t expect it from John. Maybe he should have.

“I’m sorry,” Paul says, feeling almost humiliated.

“What for?” John grins. “Don’t say that Macca, you have to say ‘and to you a happy Chrimbo,’ or a few lines from Good King Wenceleslyness.”

“No, I…” Paul stumbles over his words, clumsy. “I didn’t get anything for you.”

John seems to consider this, his eyes still faintly amused. “Give it back then, I’m not running a charity. Can you imagine that, charity at Christmastime? And alms and all that too?”

Paul hands it over mutely. His gaze wanders above John’s eyes, to the place where snowflakes are catching in his short eyelashes.

The sound of cracking startles him from this reverie, and John shoves half the bar into his cold hands.

“There, now you have. Happy Christmas, John,” John says.

Paul watches John as he bites into the other half, smacking his mouth with relish. He wonders if John remembers sharing that chocolate bar with him a year ago, before they met. He thinks he does; the way he smiles like that, too, is a memory shared between them, warm.

He doesn’t need to ask. “Happy Christmas, Paul,” he says instead, and feels aglow. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy christmas everyone. thank you for a lovely year in the fandom 🙇 best wishes and all my love 💖


End file.
